


Ice, Ice Baby

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ice Bucket Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Tyrion had nominated him, and of course the video had flown around the office quicker than any one of the seasonal coughs and colds that their employees enjoyed sharing with all and sundry. So, after his best friend had offered her services, the wench having taken such joy in pouring the five gallon bucket of freezing water over his head, it was only fair, Jaime thought, that he return the favour. All in the name of charity, he'd concluded smugly into his phone's camera, while still soaking wet and fighting a shiver, flashing his most charming smile.  Meanwhile, she had stood in the background, spluttering out the many reasons why it would be more worthwhile to donate, rather than be publicly drenched. But in all the years he'd known Brienne Tarth, she had never been one to back down from a challenge and Jaime knew it wouldn't take much prodding to turn the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice, Ice Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostabeauty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostabeauty/gifts).



> This story took a little longer than I originally expected, but with the help of my fabulously talented beta, RoseHeart, who I can not thank enough for all her AMAZING input with this, it's finally at a point where I'm happy to share it.
> 
> This was written for a prompt by the lovely almostabeauty, who has never been anything less than one of the sweetest, more supportive friends that I've made on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it, lovely!
> 
> All characters, and anything else that you recognise which isn't an actual place in real world England, belongs to GRRM and I'm only borrowing for fluffy times that wouldn't ever happen in Westeros.

Of course Tyrion had nominated him, and of course the video had flown around the office quicker than any one of the seasonal coughs and colds that their employees enjoyed sharing with all and sundry. So, after his best friend had offered her services, the wench having taken such joy in pouring the five gallon bucket of freezing water over his head, it was only fair, Jaime thought, that he return the favour. All in the name of charity, he'd concluded smugly into his phone's camera, while still soaking wet and fighting a shiver, flashing his most charming smile. Meanwhile, she had stood in the background, spluttering out the many reasons why it would be more worthwhile to donate, rather than be publicly drenched. But in all the years he'd known Brienne Tarth, she had never been one to back down from a challenge and Jaime knew it wouldn't take much prodding to turn the tables.

Five years earlier, they were nothing but a knot of tension, their argumentative chance encounters starting at one of the best undiscovered coffee shops in London and culminating in punches almost being thrown in Kennington Park during the capital's Oktoberfest celebrations. If the ice challenge meme had passed, like a tempest, through his place of work during that time, Jaime doubted his intentions would have been so benevolent. Back then, it had amused him to no end to realise that the giant beast of a woman he traded sharply honed insults with had shed her unofficial university uniform, that fateful weekend, for an ill-fitting serving wench's costume, her broad, unfeminine form on view for all to see. He was instantly grateful that his brother had dragged him to the event, once he had fallen into a seat and greeted Brienne with the wish that he'd brought a camera. She had just about snapped out of her red faced embarrassment long enough to tell him to keep his mouth shut, although they both knew that wasn't likely going to happen, his sloppily served beer all but forgotten.

One glass of warm, flat liquid had turned into half a dozen before Jaime realised he was paying far more attention to the exposed muscles moving across her shoulders and thighs than was absolutely necessary. Rather than sipping his beer, he felt the urge to drink in every inch of toned, freckled flesh on show, while he remained just sober enough to both mock and appreciate the unobstructed view. Brienne, however, had not seemed to find as much entertainment in their sudden meeting since Tyrion had returned from his adventures mere seconds before they came to actual blows. Her pretty brunette colleague took the taller girl's arm and sent them off into the night with a set smile and tersely worded goodbye that promised dire consequences should he try anything else.

But, with Brienne's voice echoing in his cloudy head, Jaime had dreamt of sapphire stars for the first time that night. When morning came, he'd forgotten the minute details, though, even through his blinding headache, he was struck with a feeling of intense contentment and the possibility that calling a truce the next time their paths crossed wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. 

All these years later and he was still waking up to the memory of her visiting him in his sleep. And now, with less than five minutes left of his working day, he broke into a grin as Brienne barreled into his office, a look of triumph softly caressing her homely features into something almost appealing enough to help Jaime recall his most recent, very naked, dream about her. A myriad of quips ran through his head, but none of them seemed the perfect fit for the moment, though his smile wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tried. “You’re right on time to accept your challenge, wench. But I thought we agreed that you’d wait downstairs for me so we can go and film this somewhere a lot more waterproof.”

“I’ve donated”, she replied, retrieving a piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans to wave in his face, the quirk of her lips signaling her losing fight with matching him grin for grin.

“Donated to what?”

“Donated enough money so that you don’t have to trouble yourself with pouring freezing water over me.”

Jaime pouted, watching her lick her own lips as he pushed himself away from the desk and to his feet, a blush threatening to overwhelm her skin as he bit down into the sulking imitation. “But I’ve got it all ready for you. It should be cold enough by now.”

“Jaime, no…”

“Peck’s been adding ice to it for most of the afternoon”, he informed her casually, reaching out for Brienne as soon as he got close enough, feeling her struggle for less than a heartbeat at the habitual contact, before relaxing and returning one of their overly friendly hugs. “Because it’s for _charity_. And because your father might have emailed me this morning to say that you were so used to swimming in cold water that it wasn’t really a challenge.”

“Oh god”, she breathed, her continued proximity causing the warm exhale to travel down Jaime’s neck, his cock suddenly stirring with an experimental twitch. “I’ll kill him…wait. Since when have you and my dad been exchanging emails?”

“Since that New Year’s Eve party when you took me home and vehemently told everyone who _didn’t_ ask that I wasn’t your boyfriend.”

Jaime could have sworn her blush deepened, feeling the rising warmth against his cheek as Brienne clumsily detangled herself from his arms. “That’s because you’re not.”

“I think your father just wanted to make sure.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at seeing the beginnings of another smile, the cogs in her brain working so slowly that Jaime could have sworn he saw thought patterns flicker across her face well before she found the ability to voice them. “Don’t get cocky. He still doesn’t like you.”

“It’s only been a few months. Remember when I took you home for my birthday and _my_ father hated you on sight?” _He definitely assumed we were together, but he’s alone in thinking that you’re unsuitable._ “Unlike certain wenches, _I_ grow on people. I did on you, after all.”

“Yeah. Like a fungus”, she sighed, the embodiment of world weary and good-natured. Jaime didn’t know if he would ever tire of the certain flavour of exasperation they seemed to bring out of each other on a daily basis. “Give it five minutes”, Brienne continued, glancing out of the oversized windows behind his desk, providing him half a chance to give her a proper once over.

He’d excused himself from the interview panel when she applied for the photographer’s position at the magazine, trusting Tyrion and the other senior editors to choose the best person for the job. And, despite her initial reservations, she had fit in perfectly. Forever practical over pretty, she favoured fisherman sweaters and scuffed Converse even on the days she wasn’t out on location. Though, with the summer now in full bloom, Brienne had swapped the thicker knits for a plaid shirt Jaime was sure she had stolen from him back when they were living under the same roof.

That time together had provided him with some of his happiest and most trying memories. After a random mugging had left him unable to write, his right hand a mess of frayed nerves and shattered bones, the subsequent downward spiral had forced Brienne; now his sparring partner, occasional platonic lunch date, and closest friend, to set herself up in his spare room. And, after all the fights and glares and time to grow, it was only now that Jaime was realising that he missed having her around.

“Five minutes for what?” he asked, shaking away his musings. “Do you need time to gather your courage, wench?”

“Stop calling me ‘wench’. Or at least stop calling me _that_ when we’re at work”, she snapped back in reflex. “Give it five minutes and the car park should be pretty much empty, if you want to…” Brienne waved her hand around her head in a badly mimed imitation of falling water and he grinned, failing at not appearing gleeful by the prospect. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

His grin widened. “And what could possibly make you think that?”

“Because you’re a ridiculous idiot?”

“I’m also your bosses’ boss, which you would do well to remember every now and again.”

“I refer you to my earlier point about nicknames and professionalism.”

“You’re no fun”, he lied effortlessly, immensely proud of the speed and sharpness of her retort. “But maybe after you’ve given me back my shirt and cooled down, we could get some dinner?”

“That must be the third time you’ve asked me this week. Don’t you have a life of endless award ceremonies and corporate parties you should be getting back to?”

Although she didn’t move from the spot where she had taken up residence, her stomach growled at the mere mention of food, affirming Jaime’s suspicions that she had probably skipped lunch. There was no doubt that Brienne was dedicated to her role, but she was also as stubborn as a mule when it came to seeing things through from start to finish. Never mind that they had a graphic designer on the payroll, his new and only friend was under the constant impression that their connection meant she had something to prove. And, if Jaime hadn’t started to tumble back into the gently twinkling azure pools in her eyes, he might have realised that their badly behaved bantering and morning coffee runs probably weren’t doing much to disapprove that theory.

Instead, he took another couple of steps towards Brienne, picking up his keys on the way and making for the door. “No, I’m all yours this week. Though I can’t imagine there’re too many people out there who would pay for the pleasure of watching you stuff your face.”

She let out a noise that was somewhere between a disapproving cough and a surprised sigh, his cock twitching again at the unbidden thought of that noise being repeated under different circumstances, like finally being able to show how much she meant to him. Brienne remained on guard, still a little underprepared for whatever was coming out of his mouth next, but she fell into step with him as she had so many times before. “I could say the same thing. _You_ eat like it’s always your final meal. It’s a wonder you still look so good…”

 _How long has she been thinking like that?_ The question formed in Jaime’s mind as his returning volley uncharacteristically froze on his tongue. _As long as I’ve been finding every excuse known to man to spend more time with her? As long as I’ve been drowning in her eyes?_ The scarlet and gold carpet beneath their feet gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, making no noise at all as they stalked towards the stairs in knowing silence, stride by matching stride, Brienne brushing against his elbow on every other step. “It’s ok, you can admit I look good, I’m not going to judge. Or complain to senior management about sexual harassment.”

Pausing to hold the heavy fire door open for him at the end of the row of editors’ offices, she turned back to over exaggerate the roll of her eyes, the earlier blush making a vengeful reappearance, stretching out over her cheeks like it was asking each freckle to dance in the arms of embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want to add to your already overinflated ego. I know your brother holds the purse strings around here but even _he_ can’t widen the door frames any more if your head gets any bigger.”

Jaime tried to emulate the icy glare his father used to dish out when the younger generation of Lannisters weren’t behaving exactly to his liking, but he was enjoying himself too much to pretend to be offended by her comments for long. “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Are _you_?”

She shook her head as their leisurely stroll becoming a competitive jog, hitting the stairs and starting to make for the ground floor in perfect synchronisation. “Why don’t you have dinner with me and find out? Only, if you do, I should probably let whichever restaurant we end up at know that the best way to lighten my soon to be cold, damp wench’s mood is to bring her desert first. Especially if it’s mint chocolate flavoured.”

“Jaime”, Brienne sighed as she tried to keep up while they travelled down through the departments. His name plummeted from her pursed lips in a panting puff of pure frustration that did nothing but pique his already aroused interest. “Where…?”

“Wench…I mean, _lady’s_ choice. Just not Indian, I haven’t forgiven you for the last time.”

“How was I supposed to know that you can’t handle a little bit of heat…fine, but we split the bill.”

“Only if you give me my shirt back.” The words had barely echoed back to seek out his ears before a soft ball of warm material hit Jaime in the back of the head. Brienne defiantly looked down on him from the safety of higher ground, crossing her arms over the dark blue tank top now the only fabric covering her torso. “I see you got the memo about how much I love a violent woman. Now come here so I can get you all wet…for charity.”

“Please don’t tell me that line has worked for you in the past.” Brienne’s shoes squeaked on the freshly washed floors as she made her way down to his level, gently knocking her bare shoulder against his in a request to be let through. Jaime wasn’t expecting the jolt of static electricity from her touch to journey from his heart to his cock and back again. However, as he wondered if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him or if her jeans were really getting tighter, he couldn’t come up with a single reason to complain.

“It’s working now, is it not?”

“You know that’s not what I meant”, she chastised softly, the door to the reception area staring them both in the face while her insecurities tried to battle against her more playful nature. Ever since she had begun to relax in his presence, Jaime was being allowed to see more and more of what was hidden behind the defences she put up to protect herself from the world. There had even been more than a couple of times where they were both too drunk to remember what they were saying to each other. He could barely recollect the last game he’d accompanied her to that wasn’t in the capital, being called up north to entertain corporate guests while she snapped pictures on the goal line, almost drinking the hotel mini bar dry when dusk fell and eventually falling asleep in the same bed.

Jaime wasn’t too sure if he’d invited her to stay or if she’d just been too tired and unsteady to make it next door, but waking up together was far more pleasing than he would have expected, still fully clothed but pressed up against each other like they belonged. Brienne had continued to doze with her head on his chest as his body pushed past the point of returning to sweet dreams, with no sign that she minded being so close.

He should have kissed her then, kissed her awake and watched her open those big, beautiful eyes to how he felt about her, but, like a coward, he had slipped out of her arms and went back to work from the suite’s corner table, his arousal safely out of sight by the time she did wake, sighing enticingly and rolling into the warmth he had left behind.

“I’m not like one of those London Bronco’s cheerleaders who couldn’t take their eyes off you last week”, she was telling him, pulling him back to the present.

 _I didn’t even notice._ “And I thank god for that every day. Not just because you’d look almost as ridiculous in one of those tiny skirts as you did in your wench’s costume, _wench_.” _But don’t think I don’t catch you staring yourself, every now and again._

Brienne pushed her palm against the fire resistant pine barrier, turning to look at him but losing her confidence at the last moment, her eyes darting around to rest everywhere but his face. “I think you might have hit a new record since it’s been at least a week since you last brought that skirt up. Tell me again, why are we still friends?”

Jaime jogged down the rest of the stairs, boldly slipping his weaker left hand into her right in one fluid motion, a half second smile threating to burst through from behind strangely nervous clouds. “Because, Brienne, underneath it all, you love me really.”

“S-sure”, she stuttered out her reply, offering no warning as she pulled away to start to stride into a world occupied by more than just him and her, wholly guileless and uncertain when she caught his gaze again as Peck waved them both other. “I…I love y-you, Jaime.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard to admit. I’m perfectly loveable.” _And I think I could feel the same about you too._

 

Once outside, Jaime was unsurprised to find the car park deserted, the small percentage of their employees who braved the daily traffic tailbacks having wisely already departed for the evening while he and Brienne perfected their serve and volley bantering skills in the stairwell. Peck had followed them out, checking on the near overflowing bucket before he neatly shuffled out of sight. Jaime instantly wondered if his assistant hadn’t been a little too enthusiastic in fulfilling his earlier request, Brienne nudging him with her elbow almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

“I’m now really happy I donated to one of those clean water charities earlier”, she told him in a whisper, as if her sentiments could harm the eager to please, departing young man.

“Of course you did. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”

She did her best to ignore that particular comment, switching her focus from the carefully tended frigid water to the tripod that had also been set up for the occasion. “Did you borrow a camera as well?”

“No”, Jaime corrected, raising her hopes, along with a pale eyebrow, only to dash them a second later. “I stole a camera.”

“ _Jaime.”_

“It belongs to my company, therefore it belongs to me too.” She sighed and he let her think the worst of him before he gracefully yielded to her better-developed sense of morality. “Fine. If you’re going to be like _that_ , I’ll give it back. Tomorrow.”

“We could have just as easily done this with my phone.”

“Not until you get a phone from this decade, we couldn’t. Besides, it’s not much of an acceptance if we can’t see your face.”

Brienne eyed the video camera like it had grown fangs or claws, years spent looking down a lens making her wary of the possibilities that could be unleashed by such a creature. “You really think anyone wants to see _my_ face?”

 _I do. Every day._ “Your dad will, at the very least. And the Tyrell’s. And maybe some of your work friends.”

“And _you_ , when you watch it back to laugh at me later?”

“And me”, he agreed, happy to acknowledge that his best friend probably knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Although, Jaime was also more than grateful that Brienne could only read his moods and not his thoughts. “Well, come on, then, wench. Are we doing this or not? I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be stalling for time by…”

“Oh, shut your mouth”, she grumbled, leaning into him to give Jaime another knock with her shoulder, though the malice that once stained those words had long disappeared. “I’m not stalling, I’m _thinking_. You should try it sometime, instead of just talking about it.”

 _I keep thinking what it would be like to kiss you._ “Trust me, nothing good ever comes of thinking. Even if it’s about me.”

“Get over yourself”, she murmured with a defeated sigh. “I w-was wondering who would scream louder if I nominated them; Margaery or Loras?”

“You can nominate more than one person, so you don’t have to choose between them.”

Brienne released a heavy breath that seemed to move straight through him, catching at the strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

He grinned wickedly, rubbing his hands together like a comic book villain as she slowly shook her head, shifting her weight from side to side, still eyeing the camera like it would bite. “If Milady would be so kind as to take up her position, then we can begin.”

“Jaime.” Even after all the years they had spent learning each other’s hopes and fears and deepest, darkest secrets, she still wasn’t buying anything he was trying to sell. His heart fluttered a little as she stepped in front of him, trying not to imagine a future scenario where the constantly changing dimensions of their friendship, or her own equally broken and healed heart, would prevent Brienne from accepting his overtures as anything but the truth.

 _Brienne._ “In three…”

“You must be….”

“Two…”

“The most….”

“One….”

He hit record just as she twisted her face to finish calling him whatever name fit the situation best, feeling only slightly guilty that her mouth dropped open at being forced into the spotlight before she was ready, shock temporarily taking hold before friendly frustration could return. Brienne offered him the briefest of glares and he shrugged, already looking forward to her future attempts at retaliation.

“Hi”, she struggled to mumble, lacking the same levels of bravado that had made it so easy for Jaime to address his own captive audience just a day earlier.

 _She’s a big girl, she just needs a second._ Occasionally he could forget how young Brienne was, but seeing her through that lens, wide eyed and flushed and looking more than a little betrayed, hit that point home as hard as it could have been thrown.

“I’m…Brienne Tarth, photographer for JT Sports Weekly, and I was nominated for the Ice Bucket Challenge by my good friend, Jaime Lannister.” She blinked faster as he teasingly stuck out his tongue, licking his lips while she failed to cover up how hard she was fumbling for her next word. But, even as he teased her into a shade of scarlet that would have fit right in with the company carpet, the recognition and shy smile that was trying to accompany it charmed him, her self-confidence growing but only if she kept her focus firmly on the man and not the machine. “…who has sent about a dozen emails today reminding me of that.”

_There you go. You don’t need to be worried in front of me, or for me. I lo…._

“So, if only to stop him from wasting any more time coming up with ice related puns, of course I accept.”

“Was that so hard?” he mouthed, shaking his head as Brienne nodded hers, a flash of joviality brightening her strong features. _Stupid, stubborn, contrary woman._ “Nominations?”

“…and I’d like to nominate my dad, Colonel Selwyn Tarth, and Margaery and Loras Tyrell.”

Jaime double-checked that the commandeered camera could run and record without needing human intervention. He left it while listening to Brienne talk through several reasons why he was being so helpful, all but one painting him in a far more flattering light than he ultimately deserved, winking first at her and then down the lens as he stepped into the line of fire to complete his task.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, wench?”

“What did I tell you about calling me that, Jaime?”

“I need to call you _something_ and I’ve never had you down as the ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ type. Besides, that would probably give off the kind of impression you were warning me about earlier.”

“You could always call me by my name.” She sighed again, the exasperated straight man to his wise cracking genius. “We can edit that bit out later, can’t we? I don’t need Margaery asking why you’re….why you’d want to…why I’m….”

“Why you’re what?” Jaime mused, dragging his fingertips over the surface of the stagnant water in the bucket, determining how much of the ice was still in solid form by watching the ripples buoyantly reach out to bounce off the sides, circles spinning within circles. “What’s Miss Tyrell assuming now? She’s still not on you about that blind date with one of her _friends_ , is she?”

The joke stuck in his throat as it rose, Jaime plunging his hand into the freezing depths to stop the unwelcome rumbling growl from making itself heard. He shouldn’t be basking in familiar twinges of jealousy, but once the feeling had been acknowledged, it wasn’t so easily swallowed. Brienne had had a couple of ‘ _boyfriends_ ’ since they’d become close, fleeting things that had, nevertheless, hit her hard when they had ended, but she either didn’t have the inclination or understanding to follow through on her friend’s veiled suggestions. “Unless…”

“N-no”, she whispered. “She’d just like me to be more….about what…who…what I….”

“Forward?” Jaime offered, inching himself steadily forward with the bucket in tow, aiming for stealthy but only succeeding in littering the sweltering ground with splashing puddles, her trailing eyes saying more than she would ever be brave enough to utter. _I had a dream about that once. You had me pinned to my bed between your thighs, blushing and shifting in your daring._

“I don’t…it doesn’t matter.”

“Why wouldn’t it? Just because you can stumble over your words like you’ve fallen over your big feet doesn’t mean I’ve not been listening.” He left her pondering that thought, open mouthed, as he hoisted the bucket up off the ground. “On _three_ right?”

“ _JJJJAAAIIIIMMEEEE!!!”_ Brienne shrieked as he upturned the container over her head without further warning, her voice flying through the octaves to hit a ringing high, like she was testing her strength on an arcade game. “ _YOU LITTLE SHI…._! Good God, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d been at that all afternoon!”

She was alternatively gasping and laughing now, her ragged breathing catching in Jaime’s ears as she bounced on the spot. The streams of water remaining on her skin began to carve out new pathways, rivers that ran down her thick neck and strong arms, dripping off her fingertips in a seductive slow motion that made his mouth go dry. He knew he was meant to laugh at her, with her, marvelling at each one of her reactions as she worked past the shock and discovered the joy that came from feeling adrenaline coursing through her veins, but, even without glancing down, Jaime found he was nearing the point of speechlessness.

“Brienne? I think we should…maybe, stop recording now?”

For once Brienne followed his haltingly proposed request without question, the confidence she had borrowed disappearing the instant palpable levels of concern flitted across her face. Jaime reluctantly watched her spin away from his growing discomfort while droplets kept falling off her with every long stride, there and back again. He’d once believed her to be at her ugliest when wet, although with the lines of muscles across her shoulders and stomach now becoming visible, he couldn’t find it in himself to cling to that swiftly formed opinion anymore.

_Her dad was right. She was more bothered by me than the water. So much so, she hasn’t even realised what she’s…._

“Now that that’s done”, he swallowed, willing his traitorous body to listen to the parts of his mind not preoccupied with the dripping wench in front of him, nonchalance suddenly seeming to be an impossible emotion to fake. “There’s a new Italian place that’s been recommended on the other side of the river, if you…fancy carbo-loading tonight.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t sound ok.” Sweeping a hand through her soaking hair, the movement emphasised how strained the tightening material across her chest had become, pulling his gaze down into a special hell where Jaime could commit the slight swell of her breasts and icy incited peaks to memory, his head and his heart and his half hard cock already well past the point of being smitten. “Do you think we need to do that again? If I did something wrong we can….”

 _That depends on your definition of ‘wrong’._ “No, no, no. It was fine. You are… _were_ fine.”

“Jaime?”

He considered heading back inside to cool down while Brienne warmed up, though he was more preoccupied with the catch in her voice and how she _really_ needed to stop saying his name like that. “Remember when you said you were worried about wasting my time?” he snarled, recklessly lashing out in the hopes that she would stay at arm’s length, tantalisingly close, though still on the right side of their platonically sketched lines.

“Remember when you kept telling me you were going to enjoy this?”

With her eyes narrowing, Brienne stood her ground, defensive habits he had grown to expect pulling her arms tight around her unknowingly exposed chest, her prominent front teeth sinking into her lower lip until Jaime softened everywhere but where it would have helped. She opened her mouth to speak again, as an unintentionally mischievous smile twitched and sparked across his face, signalling his lack of patience to listen to whatever questioning platitudes were about to fall next from her swelling lips.

“If we stay out here much longer, you’ll end up wasting your own evening as well. Besides”, he continued, his eyes fastening on the nervous movements of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lap along where she had just nibbled, dragging over the rough surfaces and disappearing before she pressed her lips back together, the carefully hypnotic repetitions throbbing through his boiling blood. “I’m starving and, knowing you, you’ll want to eat at least once tonight too.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, continuing to search for comprehension, tiny spectrums of colour bursting in the beads of ice water gluing the translucent threads together. “You’re just going to keep getting stranger as you get older, aren’t you?”

Jaime groaned, the blood draining from his brain making him frustrated and desperate. It was all too much, the goose bumps along her skin, the redness of her cheeks and lips, the peaks of her breasts, and, especially, the emptiness in his home. Before he could rein in his tongue, it was wagging enticingly at the wench. “I’d like to see you do any better when _you’re_ so turned on you can’t think straight.”

The colour blanched from her pale cheeks, following the retreating water to disappear below the dip of her sensible neckline, making her skin translucent and her freckles burst like fireworks of disbelief. She gaped at him, working her mouth like a fish as her eyes became giant blue saucers, searching for words that seemed to stick in her throat. “You’re w-w-what now?”

 Jaime unconsciously matched Brienne blink for blink as one of their usually comfortable silences turned agonising, like all the air that existed between them had liquefied and they were slowly drowning in the products of his recklessness. And just when he thought they were reaching a breaking point, that one or the other would snap and yield to the building pressure, Brienne carefully unlocked her gaze from his. Jaime had to bite his tongue as he watched her uncertainty manifesting, always so suspicious of how best to proceed when suggestion wrapped around his tone without prior warning, his trousers feeling more and more constrained while her blue _blue_ eyes danced across his torso on their way to the ground.

"Brienne." _This isn't what it looks like?_ He tried to call her back into bickering, the quips in his head turning cruel. But before a single mocking syllable could form, she emitted a soft gasp, Jaime freezing in place as she caught sight of the very real arousal twitching painfully under her deepening blush, strength and power at odds with her innocence. "Brienne." _Forgive me?_

"You're really...."

He growled as she trailed her line of sight up over his swirling stomach, his pounding chest, his tensing shoulders, settling to burn a hole in his throat rather than risk staring at his face again. The loss of control that her gaze caused forced up undeniable irritation as he watched her stare, disbelieving that she could incite his lust. "You should take a look at yourself before you start judging me, wench. You must be able to _feel_ the goose bumps trying to overtake your thousands of freckles for space, and, if I was a betting man, I'd put money on your nipples being as pink as your cheeks just were." He couldn't stop talking, digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole as if that would cover up the truth in what Brienne had just seen.

"Although you should probably count yourself lucky that you chose blue over your favoured white this morning, when you were misappropriating my shirt. If it had been any other day, you'd be running the risk of indecent exposure right about now. Maybe next time you…"

"No", Brienne cut in, her voice firmly staying at a whisper, hugging herself tighter as the sun momentarily disappeared behind the only cloud in the sky, shivering in the cooling air. "You’re not…you don’t want… not with your smiles and your arms and...and I don't know what game you're playing, but you need to stop screwing with me.”

If Jaime hadn’t been so eager to finally spill the desires of his heart and body, and Brienne hadn’t looked ready to either flee or fight him, he would have been highly amused at their current situation. If his heart hadn’t been so lost to the ragged, wet Amazon, towering above him, with goose bumps as sharp as spikes that would surely cause as much damage as anything she couldn’t say, he would have known exactly what story to spin to get them back to over friendly hugs and surreptitious glances. She was starting to visibly shiver, dripping in the shadow of the building that had helped to nurture their friendship while he was beginning to leak out feelings he’d been swallowing down for too long. It was hardly romantic or right, but Jaime refused to stop now, continuing on with the tension, which had been ripping him in two, too painful to consider.

“I seem to remember a few occasions where you’ve screwed with me too.”

She looked away and the loss of her blue gaze left him bereft and angrier. “Jaime, that’s enough now.”

“Why? I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about you since the night we spent together in that hotel in Manchester.”

She looked ready to chastise him again, to correct whatever misconception was irritating her most from the stream of snark that had tripped from his troublesome tongue, a crease of concentration forming between her brows. “Manchester was nearly seven months ago”, she informed him slowly, as if he hadn’t been aware of every passing day and the power of his growing, changing feelings.

She had almost looked as bewildered that morning as she did now, staring at him from across the room while his mind spun with the idea that he’d never seen her look better, blinking away the sleep trying to drag her eyelids back down. She’d stalked into the bathroom as soon as the shock of finding him there wore off, leaving Jaime to grow more and more uncomfortable, the sound of her clothes hitting the floor accompanied by tiny hisses of pleasure as the warm water of the shower massaged her tensed muscles back to life becoming engrained in his memory. It took all of his self-control to stay still, focusing on reading the morning news, and not about what might happen if he knocked on the door and talked her into letting him in. But he’d been dreaming up scenarios ever since, of his hands following the water running down her body, pushing the dripping hair out of her darkened eyes, finally getting to taste her parted lips as she gasped.

Taking an audible breath that brought him back down to earth with a bang, doubt dragging at her heels as her tired mind lost the internal battle she was likely waging, Brienne came to a hesitant halt two steps closer than he deserved, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes. “You couldn’t get away from me fast enough that morning. But that’s fine”, she firmly concluded, thoroughly unconvincing in her denials. “I didn’t…don’t expect….”

Jaime smoothly picked up her stuttering forward momentum, meeting her half way, as he supposed he always would, since neither of them were in the habit of backing down once a challenge had been raised. “Sneaky wench”, he crooned, holding up a hand in surrender when she glared at the accusation. “How long were you _pretending_ to be asleep so you could stay all wrapped up with me?” _How long were we awake together? Did she know I was_ holding _her?_ “Was it better than you fantasied then? Even if you didn’t get a chance to do everything you wanted to?”

She snorted, attempting to write prior events off as figments of his imagination, which was, as of that moment, running rampant with all the things that could have been between them, and those that might still come to pass. “Who said anything about us making out?”

“I think _you_ just did.” He chuckled, hoping that she would follow, hoping that she wouldn’t overthink her next move but would fall into his arms so they could begin practicing what she had just brought up.

Brienne only glared all the more fiercely at being called out, her walls rebuilding before his eyes, defences still drawn, though they were now becoming sluggish, as much a product of the cold as they were of the long buried feelings she had all but admitted to. “I’d be happy to talk about it some more, if you want, after dinner”, he proposed as innocently as he could, trying to wink at her in an attempt to diffuse some of the rebuilding tension. “Over breakfast, maybe. Our staff meeting isn’t until eleven so you can have my undivided attention. All. Night.”

“Ten”, she replied, flames of embarrassment and shock flickering up her thick neck to match the colour of her freckles. She regarded his attempts at flirtation cautiously, as if any moment now he would revert back to the man who had called her a thousand insults before asking her name. “Tyrion changed it earlier this afternoon. But if that’s going to be too early for you, old man, I can go to our place and get you some cof…”

“Our place?” Her skin flushed hotter, a tiny shake of her head indicating that wasn’t what she had meant to say, but he wasn’t going to let her get away from this that easily, not when the chinks in her armour were becoming clearer.“Is there anything else knocking around in that stubborn skull of yours that I should know about? I can be _very_ open minded.”

“You can also be an impulsive idiot.” Absently she tugged at her sodden shirt, the way in which it was sticking to her skin emphasising the barely there curve at her waist, glimpsing freckles not seen since they had spent a couple of months falling over each other in a thousand square foot apartment as if they’d been bound together by unseen threads.

“So, do I make you feel good in your dreams? Or do I get lost in those astonishing eyes of yours before we can fall into your bed?” Jaime was sure that some of his words were sinking into her skin with the remnants of the bucket of water, but others were merely bouncing off her, unable to help endear him to her.

He licked his lips without realising, Brienne turning away at the gesture to wring out the dark blue material, giving him even more reasons to stare as the firmly formed muscles of her abdomen came into view. “You’re in my life enough as it is, Jaime, without you being in my head as well. I’d never get a moment’s rest if you were whispering in my ear at all hours of the day and night.”

“I’m sure we could find something to do that would help us both since you seemed to like sleeping in my arms the last time we tried it. And I promise it’ll be more fun than running, or whatever it is you disappear off to your gym to do to take out your frustrations at not being able to touch me”, he pointed out. Though it was his own urge to take himself in hand and find a little relief, imagining the wench’s thick fingers wrapping around his cock, her mouth, her tongue, that was becoming unbearable. “But you’re not running away now, Brienne.”

“I’m not”, she agreed firmly. “I’m waiting for you to get this out of your system and then we can get back to normal. You know, there’s a girl in HR who thinks you walk on water, if you’re looking for someone who’s going to play with you the way you want.”

“Don’t put yourself down, Brienne,” he snarled, trying to swallow down jealousy. “You’re keeping up admirably for your first time. Anything else you need to know about _playing_ with me, you can pick up as we go.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re both rich and gorgeous, because you’re a terrible flirt.” She was fighting the urge to smile now and Jaime hoped that it was leaving her too distracted to continue their other battles.

“Only with you.” The caress of her eyelashes against her face sped up, the droplets that still hung to the shifting surfaces quivering, threatening to plummet like the tears she had never shed in front of him. “You’re my best friend, my only real friend, other than my brother, and I don’t want that to change because we _both_ want something more.” Jaime blurted out what he knew she wouldn’t be able to, taking another step, feeling the air around him spark with the same electricity he’d been feeling for weeks, but hadn’t yet been able to put a name to. “Why don’t you come home with me tonight and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Her mouth fell open, all denials and refusals disappearing to be replaced by sharp breaths and deteriorating words, Jaime brazenly reaching out to catch the teardrop teetering on the edge of a dappled abyss, finding his fingers were trembling as much as her lips.

“ _Jaime_ ”, she whispered, summing up so much in the dueling syllables, before her well bitten lips were pressing against his, soft and gentle and utterly unpracticed. Though the mumble that turned into a moan in his mouth couldn’t convey anything but contentment at how carefully Brienne was kissing him.

Once, twice, three times she attacked, each touch whisper soft but fiercely determined, her hands fluttering at her sides like tentatively hatching butterflies, as if she was too afraid to push for more contact in case he shattered back into whatever fantasies had fuelled her solitary nights.

Sighing her name against her slowly parting lips, Jaime accepted the invitation to lick his way deeper into her mouth as he ran his hands down her wet arms, feeling Brienne shudder from the sensations being produced by fingers and tongues. Not caring that his shirt was now slick to his skin as she pressed closer and he responded in kind, he wrapped his arms around the best woman he knew, hoping to never have to let go.

“Unless you do that with all your friends and I’ve been seriously missing out for the last few years, I take it you agree with the new situation?” he quipped breathlessly as her hands finally rose to rest on his shoulders, matching her ragged attempts at breathing. “You’ve already told me you love me, admitting that you _want_ me is nothing compared to that.”

“I don’t think…”

He moved to kiss her chin, roaming across her jaw, desperate to taste every freckle and every inch of skin she was willingly offering to him, Brienne beginning to chuckle as he lapped up the water that was running down her neck. Fighting the urge to grind against her damp, solid thigh, her fingers now stroking through his hair in a similar way to when she’d allowed him to nap with his head in her lap, sick with fever and in need of her closeness, Jaime pulled himself away, just long enough to set up another joke. “What did I tell you about thinking?”

She still hadn’t moved, staying pressed flush against him as if she didn’t care what the outside world saw when they looked at the strange, blond, mismatched couple and his muttered name was a happy, breathy admonishment escaping into the afternoon air. “One of us has to keep doing so, and, considering your awful track record, it might as well be me.”

Feeling the need to hear her laugh again, Jaime ran his palms down her soaking sides to slip a hand under the material desperately clinging to her skin, searching for the ticklish spots he’d discovered one sultry evening the previous summer when she’d shyly requested his help in re-dressing a blossoming bruise high on her shoulder blade. He’d been tempted to ask if she wanted him to kiss it better once the balm on his fingers had sweetly soothed the wound, but his tongue had taken them in a different direction, quickly dissolving the moment of trust into one that had them rolling around on the floor, trying to pull and tease reactionary peals of laughter out of the other. The tender touch now made Brienne squirm, causing her to unwittingly rub against him. Breathing hard, Jaime nuzzled at the thick muscle of her shoulder, prickling her and drenching him, his exhales disappearing into the evaporating surface water.

“The only thing coming to mind right about now is how neither of us have been on a date in over a year and a half. Which neatly coincides with when you moved in with me. Do you want to weigh in on why that could be, or should I just trust my unthinking gut?” When he looked up at her, Brienne blinked twice, boldly stealing another kiss in lieu of spilling her true feelings but he _knew,_ he just needed to hear her say it. “Contrary to office rumour, I can’t read minds, wench.”

"God help me", she swore and he saw the opportunity in her momentary pause to claim her lips yet again, finding it difficult to stop touching her now that they'd started. And, if her near soundless exclamations were anything to go by, tiny sighs that he could feel vibrating through his chest before they burst quietly from her throat, Brienne was having the same problem. Finally breaking away from his fervent mouth what could have been a second or an hour later, with a moan that had him hardening all the more, she met his eyes and couldn’t prevent the slow smile from breaking across her flushed face. "But I think I miss having you to come home to."

Jaime opened his mouth to parry, to tease, to agree, but she quickly shushed him. "It's not like I want to go back to being constantly worried about you spiralling back into suicidal tendencies, but there were a few good days mixed in there too. Like the nights we fought over whose turn it wasn't to cook and watching stupid movies that you love, though they don’t make any sense and… f-falling asleep together. That's what I miss. That’s what I-I…."

“Hang on, we seem to have skipped a few steps there, Brienne”, he murmured gently, keeping her close while his brother’s insistences about romance and settling down with the right woman galloped through his cloudy mind. “Do you want to have dinner with me? I mean”, Jaime swallowed, feeling too old and too young in the same breath, having little to no experience with what was about to fall out of his grinning mouth. “Do you want to go out with me? On a date. Properly.”

“Yes, Jaime. I w-would.” Though he expected whatever remained of the icy water to sizzle off her skin with the heat of the flames still flickering across her face, she moved to softly kiss him again, a goodnight and a good morning, a greeting and a parting, something that tasted full of promise and hope. “I’ll need to change first.”

“And I’ll need a cold shower.”

She laughed at how matter of fact he sounded and Jaime felt the warm sound reverberate through his sodden clothing down to his bones, watching her eyes go to the abandoned, empty bucket that had started this new chapter of their lives as she stepped out of the circle of his arms. “I think we can arrange that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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